Today Papa gave Thomas and me copybooks, black-walnut ink, and quills. I shall use mine for a diary, as well as for schoolwork.   The house is still. I write in the loft by candlelight while Thomas and Eliza sleep near me. Papa is snoring downstairs. Mother sings softly in the dark to baby will. He suffers from his first tooth.   Mother shed a tear of joy when she discovered this tooth, for her last two babies did not live long enough to have one. She always worries about Baby Will. Weeks ago he was just skin and bone after a bout of fever and diarrhea. But lately she says again and again "My, Baby Will has grown fatter, dost thee not all agree?"    We start school again tomorrow, after helping bring in the harvest. I am so excited I could barely sleep. I confess I'm looking forward to seeing Jess Owen. I have many things to tell him.